Sorta Classified: The truth about Taiwan
by Mrs.Phineas Bogg
Summary: From the Journals of Mac Harper: Out Rider Agent #11557–Mac is often teased about his R&R exploits in Taiwan. In his first foray into journal writing, he wants to personally set the record straight and it isn't a fluffy matter.
1. Entry 1

_**SORTA CLASSIFIED**__**!**_

From the Journals of Mac Harper: Out Rider Agent #11557

CIA Handler: Henry William Towler (U.S. Ambassador stationed in New York City)

**The _truth_ about my R&R 'exploits' in Taiwan–Entry I**

My handler Henry Towler politely asked me to keep a journal of my casework starting with this one. It's far different than the boring, statistical reports we have to write up after the fun stuff is over with. A spy's work isn't always so glamorous, though I was fortunate enough to be picked for an assignment involving Danielle Reynolds, fashion photographer extraordinaire. I have a lot to say about _that,_ but that's not the purpose of this entry. I really just want to set a record straight, because on this case Dani assumes I was being…rambunctious? How about I use a better word, such as _lascivious?_ So, I'm constantly teased about that, and honestly, it's grating my nerves. Hopefully, whoever reads this entry will think better of me if they know otherwise.

The truth is, I was getting everything _but _rest and relaxation. My stint in Taiwan was what you would call the 'Outrider initiation._'_ Henry had his eye on me for his clandestine team for a while, but he was waiting for just the right opportunity to test me out. Taiwan was it. The case was a very perilous situation. An American diplomat's twelve-year-old daughter was kidnapped while they were staying in the city. This said diplomat, (I'm not allowed to use real names of people or places within the country, so we'll call him, _Frank_)Anyways, Frank was waging an all out war against corruption in the city and in particular, the sexual exploitation of young children. When I heard about this, my blood boiled. Henry anticipated a strong a reaction from me and he got quite an earful that afternoon. I guess that sealed his decision. No matter how much he complains I'm too off the cuff and don't give a hoot about regulation, (hence being kicked out of the armed forces!) he keeps giving me assignments…_go figure!_

I mean, you barely read of this stuff in the daily papers, but working for organizations like I do, they filter across the table every day. You are then smacked with the ultimate, ugly truth that you _can't _save everyone. I've run into the argument that taking on the Child-sex tourism industry was too hot to handle. I was told by all levels of authority to let it go, but I couldn't, I wouldn't. And I made it clear that it _shouldn't_ be ignored. I wasn't going to cater to this see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil monkey business and red tape. It's sadly true, nothing humanly possible may ever to stop these monsters from preying on innocent kids, but I was willing to try. Being an Outrider is not just about diffusing bombs and shooting bad guys; it's about helping those in need, in _any_ way you can. It truly disgusted me to realize that with the travel and tourism industry booming, the majority of the offenders were right from U.S. soil. I deeply regarded my decision to take the case as the right one.

Perhaps I should give the un-enlightened a little background into the world of Child-sex tourism, I'll refer to it as 'CST.' Anyway, let me clue you in and _then_ try and tell me I was wrong. In a nutshell, CST makes profits from the exploitation of child prostitutes in developing countries. Many children are trafficked into the sex trade. These poor, defenseless kids are dragged across the border illegally and then sold to filthy brothel owners. I can understand if you don't care to read on, so I'll be light about it, but I'm sure you get the picture. Their wretched lives are almost too shocking to deal with. While I can appreciate why many are reluctant to take a stand for the issue, I utterly disagree with them.

After Henry dropped the case in my lap, _(literally, that file folder weighed about five pounds easy!)_ I went on a personal mini-operation to dig up as much facts as I could about this taboo business. Time was of strict essence, with Frank's daughter's life hanging by a thread. I'll refer to her as 'Katie' in this entry. I'll admit that I was even more afraid for her _well being_, if you get the idea. Most of this fact-finding was done over lukewarm coffee, bland meals and brief catnaps on the sixteen hour plane ride. I was determined to accomplish my mission scrupulously, armed not just with weaponry, but cold, hard facts and figures to impress the non-believers.

My research led me to discover that these children dish up between two and thirty clients per week, and the age group gets younger every year. The children live in a constant state of fear. They tremble from the brutal acts committed by clients, they dread being beaten by pimps who control the trade, and are desperately afraid of being caught by the local authorities. I doubt _they_ do much to control it anyway. While the authorities can have a limited power over their own countrymen, the laws are lax for tourists…and they just keep swarming in like roaches.

While on the plane to Taiwan, I noticed a middle-aged stuffed shirt very discreetly pouring over slapdash CST brochures. Being the nosy person I am, I took a peek. It took every ounce of willpower I had to sit back in my chair and control my fist from flying into his mouth. No dentist would have been able to salvage his gnarly teeth. I casually rapped his shoulder and flashed my badge_. Yes_, I do carry one and I was compelled to actually use it this time. When the guy saw it, his skin turned so white, he looked like he was dead for a week. I ripped the brochures from his hands and told him to have a pleasant trip_. Oh yeah,_ I gave him fair warning that If I happened to see him around the City in _any_ of those locations, no jury in the world would convict me. After that, he excused himself to the bathroom. Let me say, I can be frightening when I have to be. Don't let these big blue puppy eyes fool you.

While I'm still on a writing rant_,_ I'll point out that many of the victims also suffer physically. They catch tuberculosis, infections, and sustain physical injuries from violence. They suffer exhaustion and the venereal diseases are rampant. The poor little things barely receive medical care until it's discovered they are critically or terminally ill. They live in squalor and eat irregularly. In the end all, drug-use and suicide are commonplace. Needless to say, or _write_, I was not surprised that these victims suffer from depression, low self-worth, and just plain hopelessness that no child should ever have to encounter.

Now that you know a little more about this, I'll get into more detail about the 'R&R.' Bear with me; I'm not a good writer by any means. I'm just trying to jot down my experiences in the most intelligible and quickest way possible. I _can_ get verbose.

I was assigned a cover, _'Mr. Edward Bauer.'_ I don't look like an Edward, but I look even _less_ like an 'Eddie.' Edward was a German-American employee of TWA, working his way up to VP as part of his five-year plan. He was a ruthless brown-nose and pretty much the biggest cad to walk the earth. He was born into money, but his 'cruel' father wouldn't give him a penny unless he earned it. Still, _deprived_ Edward lived the sweet life with a snazzy pad, flashy cars, hot suits and hotter women. He was coming to Taiwan out of sick curiosity after overhearing a group of co-workers talking about this fairly new way of getting their nasty kicks.

Notice I didn't use the word, 'I.' Well _I_, Mackenzie David_, uhh, Mac_ Harper, have good reason for disassociating myself from that beastly cover. Still, Henry had the confidence I could pull it off.

Let's face it. With my looks, I had been prone to get away with just about anything. Ask my tenth-grade teachers about the day I cherry bombed the staff bathrooms, timing them to go off during the senior graduation. Yeah, I was well on my way to juvenile delinquency in High School. I think I did everything you can imagine–but all in fun of course. I don't think roller-skating around the halls made me _evil._ At fifteen I drank and smoked. My name was etched into the subconscious of quite a few of the gals, and I learned on quite a few bathroom stalls with hearts _and_ daggers_. _Call me a narc, a nerd, whatever synonym you want to use. _Geek_ is a little strong; I mean hey, I wasn't biting the heads off chickens! I was a class clown and I was damn proud of it! That didn't stop my classmates from liking me. I got everyone in on the pranks and the action; it made them feel alive. I was also a perpetual liar…_no_…more like a spinner of myths. I knew how to twist the truth like nobody's business. A manipulative bastard I suppose.

I was an attention hog_._ If you psychoanalyzed me, you'd find the reasons for my immature behavior were fairly simple. Home was not the best place to be and I was literally starving for that attention. My future did not involve milking cows on some dairy farm in Wisconsin. Okay, since this is a classified Journal I must tell the truth. I am _not_ from Wisconsin. I couldn't even tell you how to get there. That's part of the cover I tell the girls and modeling friends and associates. I'm really from New Jersey, there, I said it,_ badabing badaboom!_ Let's move on.

The one word that best describes my youth, _'INCORRIGABLE.'_ But even with my behavior, I knew, and a few astute teachers knew, that I was a good person with a keen sense of justice and a big compassionate heart. Hey, my mother said so! But I digress; let's get back to the reason for writing this journal, and that is, the _real truth_ behind my being Taiwan.


	2. Entry 2

_**SORTA CLASSIFIED!**_

From the Journals of Mac Harper: Out Rider Agent #11557

CIA Handler: Henry William Towler (U.S. Ambassador stationed in New York City)

**The **_**truth**_** about my R&R 'exploits' in Taiwan-Entry II**

My adventure would lead me into the seedy underbelly of Taipei, as Chuck Norris/Bruce Leeish and clichéd as it sounds. That was the last place we got Intel on the whereabouts of Katie. I kept her picture in my breast pocket, and close to my heart. I didn't know the child, but it was all the comfort I had to offer her right now. I was given one of those school pictures they take with the crooked library backdrop. Katie's wasn't crooked. She was a sweet looking child, a face as American as apple pie. She had light brown hair done up in a fluffy ponytail and a smattering of freckles over her nose and round, pink cheeks. She was smiling brightly, with wide-set green eyes and had one of those cute heart-shaped faces and pointy chins.

I tried not to look at the picture for too long, it only served to make me more furious. We had already lost three days between Frank's foolish hesitation to call Henry for outside Outrider help, and the sixteen-hour travel time from New York. I was coping with my extreme case of jet lag on top of it all.

The first stop was in the five-star Hotel _Cha Ching-Cha Ching_, (Remember, fake names, don't go putting it on the itinerary!) and that's where I met with Katie's distraught father and his associates. Frank couldn't understand why Henry didn't send a whole swat team of agents. Do ya think I told him that this was my_ first_ solo Outrider operation? I eventually got him to accept that this was a very delicate mission and had to be carried out as covertly as possible, and that I was the best Outrider Henry had. (_Psst–_now I am!)

If he ever reads this, I give my apologies to Jack Striker with no hard feelings. I know the Aussie has a couple of years on me; his fans love the whole James Bond aura. Me? I'm just a semi-swaggering goof ball, but it's really all part of my imperishable charm. I was gonna use another word, like, _insatiable_, but I don't know if it fit the context? Maybe you can tell me? I told ya, I'm not the best writer! I will not be responsible for any mistakes you come across while reading this, just let it go and carry on, people.

Frank's last communication with Katie was from the previous night, somewhere between 11:00pm and 11:15pm, Taiwan time. They had only spoken for a few seconds, but the glimmer of hope there was that she was still alive. Frank believed the leaders of a powerful mob group known as the 'White Tigers' kidnapped her. They highly resented the work Frank wanted to accomplish in their City and had given him many warnings to pack it up. He berated himself for not heeding them. I had to be nosy again and ask what Katie was doing in Taiwan with him. He admitted he and his wife were divorced and they had a six-month deal with their daughter. Both parents were high falootin' career people and the poor girl was a virtual yo-yo between them. I wondered if Katie was an attention seeker too. She did seem to have that mischievous glint in her eye.

Aside from research on the plane, I had to stage a course of action for getting Katie back safely and brush up on my Taiwanese. Frank's aids were able to trace the last phone call the White Tigers made to a slum just outside the City. I endeavored to bring up the CST issue with Frank. Of course, he got belligerent and demanded to know why that was important, so, I gave it to him. The White Tigers may not have been looking to kill Katie, but rather expose her to the very elements Frank was so righteously fighting to eliminate.

I have to say that it is a very humbling thing to see a grown man cry before your eyes. The berating started again and I knew it was time to make my exit. I had all the info I needed to get myself out there and his aides provided me with a list of known brothels. Thankfully, there was only a handful in the village. I didn't doubt that the White Tigers owned all of them. The aides promised to have the authorities ready as soon as I gave them confirmation of Katie's safety.

I passed out in my room for a quick, hour-long nap, just enough to revive my senses. I dressed down, so as not to attract too much attention. Anyone that knows me also knows my comfort zone. I prefer dark Polos, jeans and boots. Dani says I have a very infuriating habit of tearing off the Levi labels. That's quite true; I just hate being a walking billboard. Besides, when I do have the tag, I feel more eyes than I'm comfortable with on a particular region of my buff anatomy. Shameless, aren't I? _Buff…handsome_…I don't play coy very well. I brought along a knapsack with the slimy brochures, some food and water, and a few other spy essentials. Rule of thumb, never leave home without at least one 'bug' and recording device for future evidence.

The food wasn't for me, but for the children I planned to encounter and bribe information from. Of course, I never leave anywhere unless I'm packin.' I also had a neat set of ninja blades I just ordered that strapped around the lower calf. I gazed at Katie's picture one last time before I left. _"Don't worry sweetheart,"_ I vowed_. "I'm coming for you and they are gonna pay."_

I know this one is short, but Dani has us running circles for the recent issue of Harper's Bazaar. I told her that should be the title of my future memoirs, but we'll just put a play on words.

_BIZARRE_ is more like it!


	3. Entry 3

_**SORTA CLASSIFIED!**_

From the Journals of Mac Harper: Out Rider Agent #11557

CIA Handler: Henry William Towler (U.S. Ambassador stationed in New York City)

**The **_**truth**_** about my R&R 'exploits' in Taiwan-Entry III (Final)  
**

Mere written words cannot describe the revulsion I felt when I came into the brothel houses, though most of them were more like huts. They stunk, it was dirty in every sense and the heat was unbearable. You had to be a real psycho to put up with these conditions willingly, as their many customers do. At first the owner tried to sweet talk me into starting off my carnal evening with some of the lovely _women_ of the house. I think he took too much stock in the word 'lovely' because they were anything but. I don't mean to sound cruel or stuck-up about a lady's looks, but these women were pathetic underneath the white powders and heavy makeup. I knew what lurked beneath. Blackened teeth, halitosis, bumps, bruises, and mysterious skin ailments. And lest we forget, they were possibly swarming with diseases on the inside.

The first few houses were clean, in the sense that there was no sign of Katie anywhere. I checked high and low, but refrained from revealing my identity in case the madams called one another to warn of my coming.

As I made my way through the slums, it was hard to look at the people in their conditions and not feel sorry. All many of them knew was poverty, and heartache was ingrained in every face. I can still feel their accusing eyes on me. _"Here comes another rich white man to abuse our children."_ I hated that feeling. I wanted to run through the streets and apologize to each and every one of them for the failures of my race and country.

The last brothel home was larger and more 'luxuriously' furnished than the rest. By the time I made it there, I was antsy. This had to be the hideout. Its location made me suspicious, being in the poorest section of the slum. I was taken to a very hidden back room with shoddily painted Pepto-Bismol pink walls. In the left corner lay a king size mattress propped up on a broken box spring. The stuffing of the bed was worn down to lumps with unidentifiable stains on top. Grimy, threadbare, red linens and lace draped over the bed. It churned my stomach and I was grateful to have not eaten a heavy meal beforehand. I was told to wait, and so I did for nearly ten minutes. The door slowly opened and a girl no older than eleven eventually crept inside to meet me. Her defeated gaze and battered, spindly body tore my heart. She shyly came to the edge of the bed and climbed up, waiting for my direction. I think she was truly taken with me. When I didn't respond she removed her shoes. I couldn't let her get any further.

Compulsively, I reached over and stroked her choppy black hair, shaking my head. She was then shocked to find that I could speak to her in her native tongue. I could see she was apprehensive because I didn't want her services. That wasn't gonna sit well with her owner. I handed her some money for her troubles and gave her my last sandwich and water. She ate it hungrily and gratefully. What saddened me was that I had to reassure her that my refusal _wasn't_ personal. I pulled out the picture of Katie and knew I hit pay dirt when her face glowed with recognition. The little girl, I'll call her _Mei_, was apparently the eyes and ears of the place. She had seen a group of rough men bring in a little white girl two days earlier and she had never seen the little girl leave. Mei also knew of a secret room beneath a cherry blossom painting and even told me the panel to push to get into it. The brothel owners had used Mei to bring Katie her meals and keep her clean.

It wasn't easy to get into that hideaway under the scrutiny of the others. When I had to leave Mei, she cried, and thanked me for my kindness. She gave me a long hug and a modest little weave pattern of the beach that she created. I didn't want to take something she worked so hard on, but she said when she wanted to be reminded of the ocean, all she had to do was think of my eyes. That touched me profoundly. I still display her token in my apartment. My inquisitive friends can always expect a tale to go with all of my keepsakes.

My biggest dilemmas were how I would free Katie, and then get her out undetected. I couldn't linger in the hallway too long, so I just pushed the panel and quickly jumped inside when the wall slid open. It was very dark in the cramped space, with a small lamp hanging off a broken nightstand and casting looming shadows. The air was damp and smelled foul. I heard rustling on the bed and Katie's soft whimpers. I pulled out my flashlight and shone it in her direction. She gazed pitifully at me with bloodshot green eyes and she jostled her binds fearfully. She must have sensed I was there to help. I was immediately aghast; No words had to be spoken…the bastards had gotten to her. These are the chances we take in my line of work, we win some, and we lose some. I felt wretched, and though she was alive, I felt I had lost her.

Katie was handcuffed to the rusted bedpost with her arms over her head and clothed in a thin white nightdress. She was barefoot and I noted scratches and bruises on her limbs. I hurried over to her and picked the handcuffs, then used my blade to cute the ropes around her ankles. She could barely move her arms from stiffness so I helped her lower them. She shuddered under my touch, and kept drawing away. Her mouth drooped miserably when I removed the gag. I spoke to her soothingly, telling her who I was and that I was there to rescue her. I didn't like her unusual silence. She had suffered a great trauma and was almost in a state of shock. I peered around the room for other exits, but it was completely enclosed. The only way out was the way I came in. Talk about a potential fire hazard.

I knew it was time to enforce my authority to these monsters. I calmly wrapped Katie in a blanket and carried her through the passage. The other members of the house looked at us bewildered and I saw the owners freeze up. They motioned to use the phone, but I whipped out my gun,with a little difficulty, after adjusting Katie in my arms. I shouted at them to put their hands up and everyone did just so. I told them I was leaving with the hostage and nobody should try and stop me. That exact moment was when the carnage began.

I have no clue where it came from, but I imagined that somehow the White Tigers were alerted of my investigation. I'm gonna have to work on my covers! I'm so used to being me, I guess I just shine through all the facades. I think I overdid my Edward Bauer complaints in the other brothel. _He_ had put up such a stink that he was only bound to find the next one and make more noise. They surely alerted them of his coming. My instincts were quicker than the firebomb and I shouted for everyone to duck. Still clutching Katie, I frantically dove behind the front desk and kept my body on top of her. Everyone screamed as the flames immediately engulfed the house. There was ominous cracking above me and I knew that the roof would soon cave in. My only chance to escape was the window behind the desk.

I yanked the phone chord and caught the phone in my hands. I threw it at the window and it shattered. Leaving Katie, I stood up and made a big enough escape path. Katie was like jell-o in my hands, so I had to shake her to her senses. She finally realized the danger and wailed uncontrollably. I couldn't stop to comfort her and I picked her up, shoving her through the opening. I hollered at her to stay down, but to get as far away as possible from the fires.

I will never forget the things I saw that day, young women and children in flames running for their lives and trying to smother their burning bodies in filthy puddles of water and sewage. It struck me after I got Katie to safety that little Mei was still trapped somewhere inside. I couldn't leave her to die. I remember literally jumping through the blaze and running to the back room where I last left her. The smoke blinded me and I had to chuck myself on the floor and crawl. I kept calling for her, and finally heard her gasping and choking inside. Her soft cries of my name, well, she called me _Macki, _enforced my decision to keep plunging ahead.

The knob was burning hot; I tore off a piece of my shirt and twisted it anyway, pushing heavily against the door. When I stumbled within, Mei had already succumbed to the smoke. There was no chance to go back the way I came, the fire had engulfed everything and was roaring down the hall toward us. There was a steel barred window in her room. I grasped the rungs and pulled and tugged with all my might. They finally loosened and I yanked off the entire grating, smashing the window with it. I shoved Mei out and just as the flames burst through the doorway. I slithered through the window, cutting myself deeply in the process.

I remember when I came to Dani's studio for the first time and she made me remove my shirt to check for scars. That was the one she worried most about, the scar that ran from my upper chest toward my back. Believe me, in my modeling cover, the other raw hot dogs and plucked chickens pick on me for not waxing. But buddy, when you got scars to cover up, having that body hair helps a lot. Besides, I'd rather run through a live minefield than get waxed. Nobody is gonna take away my manhood like that! Besides the pain is unbearable, more power to you women!

It was pandemonium outside, and their fire brigades were slow in coming. The mobsters were nowhere in sight…just as I figured. I feared the worst, realizing that I compromised Katie's life for Mei's. However, when I ran around to where I left her, I found Katie. She was huddled beneath a rusted rooftop that had blown off a neighboring house in the explosion. I lowered Mei to the grass and quickly administered mouth to mouth. She was unresponsive until the fourth try when she gasped for life and cried in my arms. I hugged her and promised she would be safe. It was time to flee the scene, so I grabbed both girls and ran to my car, driving the heck out of there as fast as I could to Frank's hotel.

I'll fast forward a bit, to about three days after the mission. This is when the R&R rumors were born. Henry had called to congratulate me and announce that I was officially part of the Outrider team. _WOOT!_ My true 'exploit' was kept confidential, even to my fellow Outriders. It was really all Henry's fault. He made it seem like a Mickey Mouse case that involved the upper crust of Taiwan and their multi-million dollar escort services. I could have literally knocked him down for that one, but it kept the other Ambassadors and diplomats out of his coiffed hair. CST was, and always will be an unmentionable topic for many, and any attempts to thwart it would be scorned and I could have faced severe penalties. I guess I should thank Henry for saving my buns once again. You'll understand why when you read the rest of this.

Frank was able to return Mei to her family and even provided them some compensation money. They were extremely grateful. Mei had been one of the unfortunate children kidnapped. To this day, Mei has been my pen pal and she has blossomed into a pretty and healthy teenager. She desires to work in some kind of law enforcement to help bring justice for her country. I couldn't be more proud.

As thankful as I was that Katie was safely at home, something ate at me heavily. Three days after the rescue, she was still unresponsive to her family, choosing to sit in her room all day and lay in bed, gazing blankly at the walls. Frank called her robotic, and there was nothing the therapist could do for her. She barely slept or ate. My empathy was riled and I decided to try and help before I went home. I came to her armed with photos of the White Tigers and news clippings.

I had to reach her deepest fears. These men were powerful and strong, they knew what they wanted from her and they got it. She agreed to that much, even showing minor symptoms of the Stockholm syndrome. She made lame rationalizations that they fed her, they didn't want to hurt her, and were only trying to make money to help their people. I gave her a little lesson in CST, showing her the images of the poor, victimized children that were forced into that way of life. Katie was stronger than that, she made it out alive and I convinced her that she never wanted to feel so vulnerable again. My tactics worked and she completely incriminated all of them. Like a gushing waterfall, Katie cried openly for a long time in my embrace, sobbing over and over how they hurt her so bad. I knew at that moment that I wasn't getting on the flight Henry booked for me that night.

I became _Mac: the one-man army_ when I stormed their hideout, catching them unawares during a heated game of Mahjong. Take a lesson from the Ancient Persians, and make your siege when all guards are down…that's how Babylon fell in one night! I felt like a superhero, beating some of them to pulps and dodging rapid gunfire with my gymnastic maneuvers–and a heavy bullet proof vest. The place literally went up in smoke. I wasn't going to play fair, so I tossed a few hand grenades. As I hoped, it put an end to the whole mess, but also a few lives. When I look back, I realize how hasty and foolish I behaved. The case was over, but like always, I had to take it to the next level. I wasn't content with just saving Katie and Mei's lives. I was doing it for every exploited child in the world. The entire criminal element known as the White Tigers had to go down.

CST has since become my hot topic, and I will drive anyone into the ground if they even joke about it. It's really a twisted world when you see these seemingly 'nice' people getting their jollies off of an adult and child liaison. I have very little tolerance for any of it, in all its forms. I know that Henry is very hesitant to assign these sort of cases to me, but he also knows I will get the job done fast and furious as needed.

Well, this is the end of my first, sorta classified journal entry. I won't ask if you enjoyed reading this or anything like that. It's only a mish-mash of my personal thoughts and musings on the various missions I'm assigned. With all the madness that goes on in my cover as a male model, be rest assured, there will be more of these to come.


End file.
